


Your Hand in Mine

by SparrowPixie



Series: To Be Near You [1]
Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: AU, City of Brass AU, Daevabad, Dammit they deserve to be happy, Darayavahoush, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I have a serious trilogy hangover, I just want this war criminal to be happy, Maybe I'll write more, Nahri, Romance, Some smut to come, The Hell is wrong with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowPixie/pseuds/SparrowPixie
Summary: An AU set during City of Brass, starting off in the Grand Temple after Nahri proposes. Dara won't marry Nahri because he's not alive. She aims to do something about that.
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri e-Nahid
Series: To Be Near You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884808
Comments: 33
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've read a lot of AUs from you guys on here and wanted to try my hand as well. Instead of wondering "what would happen if Dara didn't" I wanted to imagine "what would happen if Nahri did..." This is gonna be mostly shameless fluff and if I continue (because I've started some extra chapters) please expect very indulgent, sickeningly sweet moments between them.

_“Then what’s the problem? You’re unmarried, I’m unmarried. We’re both Daeva...”_

_“I’m not alive,” Dara cut in. He dropped her hand with a sigh, rising to his feet. “Nahri, I don’t know who freed my soul from slavery. I don’t know how. But I know that I died: I drowned just like you saw. By now, my body is likely nothing but ash on the bottom of some ancient well.”_

_A fierce denial rose in Nahri’s chest, foolish and impractical. “I don’t care,” she insisted. “It doesn’t matter to me.”_

_He shook his head. “It matters to me.” His tone turned imploring. “Nahri, you know what people are saying here. They think you’re a Pureblood, the daughter of one of few greatest healers in history.”_

_“So?”_

_She could see the apology in his face before he answered. “So you’ll need children. You deserve children. A whole brood of little Nahids as likely to pick your pockets as heal an injury. And I...” His voice broke. “Nahri... I don’t bleed. I don’t breathe... I can’t imagine that I could ever give you children. It would be reckless and selfish of me to even try. The survival of your family is too important.”_

**Nahri stilled. So that’s what this was about? The continuation of the Nahid lineage? It wasn’t that he didn’t love her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was because he was not alive?**

Nahri itched to hurl a barbed remark back at him. Instead, she steadied herself and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She could feel Dara’s gaze on her but refused to let it further her anger. Finally, Nahri turned to the Daeva.

She met his anguished eyes. “So if you could be alive, if you could be mortal, this would work?”

Dara exhaled and Nahri couldn’t tell if it was out of exhaustion or exasperation. He sat back down, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor.

“Hypothetically, yes,” he admitted. “Even then, wedding your personal guard would be frowned upon.”

“But you wouldn’t care if it was frowned upon, right?”

Dara snorted. “Likely not. I have a particular weakness for you, Banu Nahida.” He offered her a hopeless smile. “So yes, Nahri, I would gladly accept your hand, were I a living, mortal Daeva.”

The idea sounded absurd aloud, but in her head, it made perfect sense. She was a Nahid. She had revived him when he was ‘dying’ once, hadn't she? A feat far beyond anything she had been taught. Maybe she couldn’t raise a corpse, but perhaps she could mold someone who was ‘not alive’ into a mortal. Nahri imagined it was similar to exchanging a coin purse filled with stones for one filled with money on a mark. And magic was all about intent. Nahri knew what she intended here.

She hadn’t realized how intensely she was looking at her Afshin, till he arched a brow at her.

“Sorry, I... Dara, if you could be mortal - a normal Daeva - would you even want to be? Would you miss all of this power?”

“As I said, my life was short. And it was not well spent. A second chance at living is worth more than any magic or power I was gifted through slavery,” Dara said softly. His melancholy expression became sympathetic. “But Nahri, you are speaking in hypotheticals of things that will never, that can never be.”

Bracing herself, Nahri took his hand. He gazed down at their interlaced fingers somberly.

“What if they _could_ be? What if I could... bring you to life? Make you mortal?”

Dara let out a musical laugh, but when he looked to Nahri she saw his emerald eyes were still somewhat dejected. As sad as the situation was, it was comforting to know that the aching and longing Nahri felt was reciprocated. 

“My Banu Nahida,” he murmured, his free hand brushing her cheek. “Some things are not possible - even with magic.”

But Nahri was not in the mood for romance or theatrics. She was determined now. She was a Nahid.

“Give me a week. Work with me. Let me at least try.”

“Try what, Nahri? Laying hands on my body and willing a heart to grow in my chest? For blood to flow through my veins?”

His doubt only fueled her fire. Imagining him whole and happy with her. Away from Ghassan. Far from politics and prying eyes. The children of the temple so eager to impress him, replaced with a child of his own. She could actually learn and practice medicine with no scheming royals trying to sabotage her. The possibilities were endless. 

“You said the Nahids worked miracles. Let me try one of my own. Let me have some sort of say in my own fate.”

Dara seemed struck by the ardent tone of her voice, the way her dark eyes were narrowed with resolve. Still holding Nahri's hand he leaned back, taking her in. Nahri raised her chin a fraction. She would not back down now. 

“You’re very serious aren’t you?”

When Nahri only steadied her gaze in response, all humor vanished from Dara’s face. He nodded, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Alright, little thief,” he exhaled. Dara raised her knuckles to his lips. “You have one week to make me mortal. Best of luck to you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever, I'm sick - I'll post the first real chapter within an hour of the prologue, why not? This is set the night *after* Ali knocked on that damn door when THANKFULLY Dara was hanging with Jamshid and they went to - I don't know - a wine and painting class? I've got a third one that I'll post if anyone is up for it

Dara stepped through the window into Nahri’s bedroom. The Afshin in Dara scolded him for committing such a scandalous act. She was his Nahid. He was meant to protect her, not clamber into her quarters in the dead of night.

As such, he was surprised to find the enchanted fires still burning in their lanterns about her room. He was even more surprised to see Nahri sprawled out on her bed, still in her hospital clothes, asleep on top of a comical amount of scrolls. 

The amused smirk fell as he peered at what was on the scrolls. Dara had never learned to read, but an Afshin could recognize a Nahid text when they saw it. 

He smiled to himself, glad to see that Nahri was learning her family’s practices. That she was eager to. That she had put behind her this nonsense of bringing him to life and was trying to become the best Banu Nahida she could. Maybe a life shut up in this palace with him at her side wouldn’t be as miserable as Dara had presumed.

Gently he gathered the scrolls around her, neatly stacking them. He tugged the corner of the one she had her head resting on, praying that her barely parted lips wouldn’t leak any sleepy saliva onto the historical words of her ancestors. 

After he managed to collect all of the papers, Dara placed them on her dresser.

Watching Nahri sleep as he moved about the room dousing the lanterns, made him itch with longing for more nights like this. Nights not in a palace but in a home of their own. Her fast asleep after a long day of having a purpose and working miracles healing their people. Ghassan’s foot off of her neck allowing her to train. What Dara would do in this imaginary scenario was a mystery to him. He didn’t really care what it was that he did as long as he was at Nahri’s side.

With the lights all extinguished, Dara walked to Nahri’s bedside, pulling down the edge of the blanket and attempting to place it over her. He noted how beautiful she looked bathed in moonlight and tried to banish away the thoughts of what it would be like if he were beside her.

Nahri let out a muffled groan as the blanket covered her ankles, then her legs and waist.

“Mmm... what?”

Dara winced as Nahri rolled over and looked up at him, her dark eyes bleary with sleep. She pushed the hair out of her face and squinted up at him.

“Dara?”

What was he supposed to say? 

_‘Hello, I had hoped to find you awake and steal a few moments in your bed.’_

“Um, hello,” Dara said instead. He took a step back from the bed, fidgeting anxiously. “I am sorry for waking you.”

Nahri looked around her, blinking awake. She spotted the stack of scrolls Dara had placed on the dresser and looked to him with a drowsy smile.

“Did you come to tuck me in?” she teased.

A blush stole Dara’s cheeks. Defeated he sat at the foot of her bed.

“I came for other reasons. But I found that you were sound asleep after much hard at work, and thought it’d be best to leave you be.”

“Leave me be?” she smirked, rubbing her eyes. She gestured to the bed and the now flameless lamps. “So you turned off the lights, pulled a blanket over me, and cleaned up the scrolls I was reading, ya?”

Dara chuckled. The grin on her lips, the look on her face. Dara couldn’t recall anyone else who ever seemed this happy to be in his company. Maybe Jamshid. What would it be like to wake up beside her every morning? A strange sensation stirred in Dara, but he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind. In truth, he’d come here chasing that sensation. But now it all seemed rather hasty and inappropriate.

“I’m just pleased to find my Banu Nahida studying so diligently,” he said with a soft smile. “I almost wish I could jump down another rukh’s throat so that I could experience the full power of your healing now that you’re trained."

“Half trained,” Nahri yawned. “And those scrolls are for you.”

“For me?” 

“Yes. Well, actually no. They all proved pretty useless. Though I did doze off before I could get through the blood replenishing potion...”

Dara’s heart sank. So Nahri was truly hell-bent on bringing him to life then? He’d thought the idea foolish and naive back in the Grand Temple, but it was something to get her through the week. It was apparent that she’d put her second day of the promised seven to good use and had been using those Nahid texts to research reversing his condition.

Not only did Dara feel guilty letting her attempt such a feat, but also for secretly hoping she _could_. It was impossible and reckless and a waste of her time. Besides, even if it did work, Nahri had no idea who she was turning into a mortal. The things that he had done. If she was trying her hand at this in hopes she could marry him, Nahri had a right to know who she was marrying.

“Nahri, you wanted to know more about me and who I was. Before you commit yourself to this hopeless quest of bringing me to life... I think it important that you know exactly who you are doing this for.”

Nahri seemed to sober at this. She’d been clamoring for more answers about his past for ages. Now she was presented with the opportunity and seemed hesitant. Probably because she’d been able to put together the pieces to form a pretty accurate answer.

“Will you hear me tell it?”

Nahri’s eyes narrowed. “All of it? No detail spared?”

“I swear to you. Every detail...” Dara’s voice broke slightly.

After he came clean he may lose her forever, but it was high time the woman he loved knew who she loved back.

Dara shifted so that he sat beside her on the bed and took a deep breath.

He started with his meeting the Nahids and their flattery. How they had requested his help in their great war. His goodbye to Tamima before he commenced the carnage he was infamous for with a scourge in hand, only to find her mutilated body upon return. 

The memories were fresher than he had realized. More vivid than his nightmares. The destruction he had caused constantly lingered in the back of his mind wracking him with guilt, but that didn’t erase the crimes he had committed. There were points in the story where tears fell from his eyes that he hurriedly tried to wipe away. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

He would miss being with someone who did not know of his monstrous past and the atrocities he’d committed. 

When the story had come to a close, the two sat in silence for a few moments. Neither wanted to be the first to speak. Dara still couldn’t meet her eyes.

Now she truly knew him. She knew why he’d never wanted to answer her questions. She knew the monster he really was.

Outside the sky was still black, but Dara knew that it would be dawn in a few hours.

He forced himself to look at Nahri. She was hugging her knees to her chest, staring straight ahead. Her dark eyes were vacant. 

“Nahri, perhaps-“

“You should go,” she nodded. 

Dara’s stomach lurched. He had done it. He had lost her. He scooted off the bed, gathering the bow he’d tossed aside. Wordlessly he made his way to the window.

“Dara.”

“Yes,” he said quietly, looking over his shoulder. 

Her expression had softened. She looked more puzzled than horrified.

“I just need to process this. I don’t know... how to feel.”

“I... understand.”

He started to climb back out.

“Dara.”

Was this the last time he would hear Nahri say his name? The last time he would lay eyes upon her. Straddling the ledge, Dara turned to her once more.

“Come back tomorrow evening.”

His eyebrows raised, Dara struggled to maintain a neutral expression and averted his gaze.

“You... you wish for me to return?”

“I do. We’re not done here,” she murmured. “Goodnight.”

“May the fires burn brightly for you,” Dara said. He then leaped from the window.

Dara’s felt empty. His mind was blank. What had he done? What would she say when he returned? It was just him, his thoughts, and the moonlight now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still sick and I'll publish another chapter in the next few days if anyone is interested. Right now, I think I'll just continue sneezing endlessly until I die. What a lame way to go during a global pandemic... Sneezing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Nahri's perspective - Dara and Nahri reconcile and then some

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT ALERT YALL - all aboard the smut train

Nahri did not sleep that night.

The next afternoon she was still attempting to sort through her emotions. The feelings she had for Dara.

He was a monster.

But that was the keyword here. ‘ _Was_.’

That man, The Scourge of Qui-Zi, certainly wouldn’t have admitted to a girl he believed to be shafit that he knew the prejudices instilled in him from birth were foolish. _That_ man didn’t teach her - or attempt to at least - how to throw a knife. He didn’t cook her meals by the fireside. The Dara she knew was very different. His face last night as he recalled the horrific events that had led him to become who he was today had been heartbreaking. His eyes had been alight with grief and anger.

With the Nahid Council gone and his family all slaughtered, Dara harbored the guilt alone. The guilt of a monster and of a survivor. He had survived, but at what cost? To live centuries as a slave? Causing death and destruction at someone else’s hand?

And the visions she’d seen from all those years ago in the ruins of Hieropolis. How he had hated razing a city to the ground. How he had had enough bloodshed. The hatred he felt for the men committing crimes sickeningly similar to his own. Dara had long ago learned and paid for the error of his ways, had he not? But ‘ _error_ ’ seemed too kind of a word for a man who helped commit genocide. For a man that had destroyed a city. For the man that was the Scourge of Qui-zi.

The man that was no more.

The devastation Dara had caused was great, but he was not lost to it. He had lost his home, his family, centuries of his life and whether anyone else could tell or not, it had changed him. He had biases to work past and amends to make, but he was not hopeless. There was good in him. And if she was the only one who could see this, if she was the only one who loved him, then the right thing to do would be to help him.

Nahri made up her mind at 4:30 pm that day. She forgave him. She would help him. She still loved him.

Nahri asked for supper to be brought to her quarters again that night. She imagined many more of her evenings would be spent in much the same fashion. After all, she only had four days left to make Dara a mortal, Daeva man. Creator, she prayed that would be able to do it. That she could replace Munthadir. Royal procedure be damned, she would marry her Afshin and turn her back on this palace.

She studied the blood potion texts with a scowl. They were getting her nowhere. It was starting to become evident that no Nahid, at least on record, had ever attempted anything like this.

Well, so be it. There was a first time for everything. And those texts weren’t entirely useless. If she’d learned anything it was that conjuring blood and organs required an exchange. That was as good a place to start as any.

Nahri took a gulp of her tea and massaged her temples. Dara would be here soon, and with the clock ticking she would have to try something. Even if it didn’t make sense. Even if it was just laying hands on him willing him to be mortal.

“Banu Nahida...”

Nahri looked up from the scroll she had been making notes on, to see a very cautious Dara climbing through her window. She sat up straighter. She hadn’t really thought through what she would say to him. Nahri offered him a nod of acknowledgment as he stepped inside.

“May the fires burn brightly for you,” Dara added, pressing his palms together and bowing.

“And for you, Afshin.”

He did not take another step. He instead stood still as a statue before the window. Nahri had never seen him so anxious. His eyes flickered to the scrolls on her bed and she saw hope flash across his face. Nahri patted the spot beside her on the bed.

Dara laid down his bow and joined her.

“I've done _a lot_ of thinking,” Nahri began. She set down the scroll she had been writing on and turned to face him. Her heart ached at the concern etched across his features. “It’s not what you’ve _done_ , it’s what you _do_. And more recently, you traveled with a girl you believed to be shafit across the world. You kept me safe. I don’t think The Scourge would do that.”

Dara averted his gaze, clearly not feeling as though he should have an opinion here.

She continued. “And there’s still more you could do. That I have no doubt that you _want_ to do. Because I think that you know, deep down, that you’re not a hopeless case.”

Nahri reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Dara looked down at their fingers then up to her, seemingly shocked. She could see that his eyes were glistening with tears.

Dara cleared his throat. “Nahri, I don’t want to question you. Not when you are being so gracious... so forgiving.” He swallowed hard. “But you are spending valuable time and effort on a person who is undeserving. Do you understand that I am... Nahri, I am bad.”

Maybe he was right.

No, he definitely was. But even so...

“Dara, nobody is just one thing.”

The tears escaped his eyes, rolling down the sharp plains of his face. Nahri brushed them away with her free hand.

“Nahri, I do not-“

“Respect your Banu Nahida’s choice, Afshin,” Nahri said softly. “And allow yourself to be happy.”

Dara wiped his nose with the back of his hand, his brows were furrowed in concern but a gentle smile playing on his lips. “My Banu Nahida, I do not deserve you.”

“Do yourself a favor and stop concerning yourself with what you do and do not deserve, Dara,” Nahri grinned.

“As you wish.”

Nahri pulled Dara into a fierce embrace. His arms wrapped around her and Nahri felt a chill run down her spine at the warmth of his touch. At the feeling of his hands clutching her shoulders. At his face buried in her curls and the heat of his breath on her neck. Could they pick up where they left off that night in the cave?

She threaded her fingers in Dara’s hair and as they pulled apart, his emerald eyes locked with hers.

They still sparkled with tears but there was something else there too. Hunger. Anticipation.

Dara’s breath hitched and that was all the invitation Nahri needed.

Without warning she crushed her lips against his, sending a shudder of surprise and desire through his torso.

Separating once more, Nahri pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. He stared up at her, startled and consumed by the yearning in her eyes. Nahri was both surprised and pleased at the effect she had on him. Her instincts had always served her well. 

Thirst consumed her at the smoky, citrus scent of his skin as she dragged a finger from his collarbone to his chest. His hand came up, slipping under her clothes and stroking her ribs. Nahri couldn't wait another moment as she trembled with desperation.

He inhaled sharply as she whipped off her abaya, his green eyes widening in hungered fervor. Dara jerked her down to him, wriggling out of his jacket and pants with the assistance of her hasty fingers. His skin was scalding beneath her touch. She let her nails drag over his the back of his shoulders.

How long had she wanted this? How long had she pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind?

Dara's hand cupped her jaw as he drew her face down to his letting a thumb trace her lower lip. The need for his touch ran deep. Heat ran through her body, uncoiling in her belly and spreading between her thighs. She could see, she could _feel_ that he ached for her. Nahri burned as they parted and his eyes drank her in. He knotted his fingers in her hair.

“I will be careful. I swear,” Dara said, his voice husky with heat.

She grabbed his wrists and moved his hands down to grip her waist. “Fuck careful, Darayavahoush. I’m so tired of being careful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos and the encouragement - more chapters in the works!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Nahri's perspective, Nahri tries her hand at making her Afshin mortal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's fluffy pillow talk time, kids - a little short but I promise there are longer chapters to come!

Nahri‘s head rested against Dara’s bare chest, their legs tangled beneath the sheets. His fingers combed through her hair gently. They had been lying here in contented silence for the past half hour.

“If you manage to make me mortal I hope that I’m still able to keep up with you, little thief.”

She laughed softly, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Well, what were you like in bed before?”

Now Dara chuckled. “I heard no complaints.”

“Sounds like I have nothing to worry about then,” she smirked. “It also sounds like you may have had many admirers...”

Dara snorted. “I don’t know about that, but I’m sure that you left a string of broken-hearted lovers in your wake back in Cairo.”

Rolling over onto her stomach, Nahri stacked her hands on top of Dara’s torso, resting her chin on her knuckles. She gave him a small shrug.

“This was my first time actually.”

Dara blinked, his brows furrowed. “Pardon?”

“You are the first person I’ve been with.”

“Creator, Nahri,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wish that you had told me. I would have-“

“It’s just sex, Dara.”

“Yes, but... I don’t know. I just...” Dara looked bewildered, then a smile spread that made his eyes crinkle. “Forgive me but, Nahri, you did not make love like someone with no experience.”

Nahri snickered, her cheeks going red. “Just going with my instincts, Afshin.” 

It was so easy to forget that she was more or less a prisoner of the royal family in this moment. That she was a pawn in a game of politics. Right now she didn’t feel like a tool or a descendant of historical healers set up for failure. No, she felt like a girl who had just made love to a very, _very_ desirable man. 

“Well,” Nahri sighed. “I was supposed to try something today. I was hard at work when you interrupted me.”

Dara smiled sadly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Nahri, your ambition is admirable, but you've got to know that this plan... it's farfetched, to say the least. What you're trying to do for me - for us - it's just not possible."

Nahri’s temper flared. 

“Have you no faith in your Nahid, Afshin?” she snapped.

“Forgive me, Nahri, but it is quite a feat you wish to accomplish...”

“That’s it,” she said rolling out of bed. Nahri pulled on a plain tunic and tied her hair away from her face. “We’re trying something. _Now_.”

The corner of Dara’s lip tilted up. He pulled himself into a sitting position, looking to her with amusement dancing in his eyes. Determination surged in her chest. 

Fine then. Maybe she had nothing concrete she could try, no potions or spells. But she had her hands and they had worked miracles before. It was as good a place to start as any.

“Lie still,” she commanded.

Dara nodded resolutely and folded his hands over his chest. “Do your worst, little thief.”

Nahri set her jaw and stormed to the bedside. She flattened her palms over his heart. One glance at his expectant gaze fueled her, she closed her eyes.

Nahri tried to picture him as a mortal Daeva. His eyes a deep black. The heat of his skin diminished. A heart-pumping beneath her hands. Rich, obsidian colored blood flowing through his veins. Visions of them escaping the palace flooded her mind. Running for the hills and living their lives in a small village.

Something wet - blood - trickled from her nose. Her head pounded.

She was startled from her concentration by a strangled gasp. Nahri opened her eyes and looked to him.

His hands were balled into fists, clenching at the sheets. His eyes were skyward, wide, and seemingly pained, shining brighter than ever before. They flashed black then back to green as Dara clenched his teeth. Terrified at the sight, wondering if perhaps she was killing him, Nahri withdrew her hands and stumbled backward. Dara grabbed his chest and shut his eyes. Beads of ash appeared on his forehead. Nahri wiped them away with the sleeve of her tunic, her heart beating against ribs. She cupped his face in her hands, praying that he would open his eyes.

She dabbed at the blood dripping from her nose. “Dara, are you alright?”

To her relief, he nodded, though his eyes were still shut. He slowly regained his breath.

“Do you-do you need fire?” she stammered, flashes of his near-death at the jaws of the Rukh overwhelming her.

Finally, he opened his eyes. They were still that startling green, but they surprised.

“I do not. No,” Dara said. “Nahri, _what_ was that?”

Collapsing onto the foot of the bed, Nahri’s shoulders slumped. She shrugged.

“I don’t know I just tried to envision you mortal with blood and a heart and-“

“I felt something in my chest... right here,” Dara said sitting up and grabbing her hand. He placed it over the area where his heart should be. “It was faint, but it was there.”

Nahri went numb. Had she really been that close? So close to willing a beating heart into his chest? 

“You looked like you were in pain...”

“I... I was but it was a different kind of pain. A pain I recognized. It was familiar, Nahri. Like when I was mortal.”

His face that had been lined with confusion was overtaken by a smile of disbelief.

“Nahri, I think that you almost... I am sorry that I doubted you.”

Stunned, Nahri could only stare at her Afshin. She had almost done it. She had almost made him mortal without the aid of Nisreen or a potion or any ancient Nahid texts. Dara leaned forward and held her to him, his cheek pressed against hers.

“Suleiman’s eye, Nahri. That was a miracle. I think that you may... if we try again I think you _may_ be able to do it.”

The world went black and the last thing Nahri heard was Dara say her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, more is in the works because I can't get enough of these two having some happiness. Me and my husband were arguing over whether or not Dara was a f*ckboi or not during his first life. I think maybe a little, but he was probably more focused on war and stuff. He disagrees and thinks that man was drowning in attention and loving it. What do you think?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nahri wakes up and finds that Dara has changed his tune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another blurp but they'll get longer - honest

“Afshin, it is right that you came to me, but imagine if you’d been caught...” 

“Is she alright?”

“I believe so. I think she’s just exhausted. Nahid magic is similar to any other type. It can be tiring...”

“Yes, this _did_ happen before when we were traveling...”

Nahri recognized the sound of Nisreen and Dara’s hushed voices. Her eyelids felt heavy. She tried to recall the foggy details from what felt like seconds ago.

“What had she done then?”

“She was reviving me. I had... jumped down a Rukh’s throat...”

“Creator,” Nisreen murmured. “Well, what was she doing before _this_ incident?”

Dara did not speak. Good. No one needed to know what they were up to and as much as Nahri trusted Nisreen she was aware that the less Nisreen knew the better. Nahri forced herself to open her eyes. She was still in her bed and wearing her plain tunic. Dara (thankfully also fully clothed) sat at the foot of the bed. Nisreen was beside her stirring some green powder into a porcelain cup. She frowned at Nahri.

“I will not admonish you for meeting with your Afshin in the dead of night, Banu Nahida, but overexerting yourself is irresponsible. Drink this.”

Without question, Nahri accepted the cup, taking a sip of the cool green liquid. It didn’t taste awful. It didn’t really taste like anything. And even if it had tasted bad, Nahri was too drained to protest. The dim lighting in her quarters made it difficult not to fall back asleep instantly. Nisreen was wiping her hands on her nightclothes, muttering something to herself with a scowl.

Nahri’s eyes darted to Dara who was staring straight ahead with a distant expression.

“Get some rest. We can talk about this more tomorrow,” Nisreen said sternly. “And Afshin, I expect her aid to find her alone here tomorrow morning when she comes to wake her for work...”

No. She had to try again and if she was going to try again she needed to rest. 

“Nisreen, may I please have tomorrow off? Ask Dara, last time this happened I was spent for a few days,” Nahri said, trying to sound as feeble as possible.

It wasn’t challenging, she felt like she’d been hit by a wagon. The disapproving creases on Nisreen’s face smoothed. She placed a gentle hand on Nahri’s face, sighing. Out of the corner of her eye, Nahri could see Dara waiting with bated breath.

“Alright,” Nisreen conceded. “I suppose it would be irresponsible of you to attempt procedures without a clear head.”

Yes, this was _responsible_ and not at all reckless. Nahri bit her tongue. Nisreen offered a kind smile, it wrecked Nahri with guilt, but it soon vanished and was once again replaced with a stony stare. 

“You seem intent on not telling me what you were doing and I won’t force you to come forward, but Afshin...” Nisreen turned to Dara, raising a chiding finger. “If you find yourself injured again, please come to the infirmary and not the Banu Nahida directly.”

Relief washed over Nahri. Good. Let Nisreen believe that Dara had come to Nahri seeking healing and not resurrection. Nahri gathered that Dara was on the same page as her as she watched him dip his head at Nisreen.

“Nahri, I’ll send a girl to your quarters in the morning to check your condition, alright? Get some rest,” Nisreen said firmly. “Darayavahoush, please say your good nights and let your Banu Nahida rest.”

“Yes, my lady. My humblest apologies,” Dara said with a solemn smile. “And if ever I am in need of such healing again, your services will be the first I request. No doubt your expertise supersedes Banu Nahri’s.” He gave Nahri a wink that made her fight off a snort. “At least for now.”

Nisreen’s cheeks flushed as she gathered the supplies she’d brought and put them in her basket. She turned to him, feigning a disapproving smile. 

“Afshin, you need not flatter me.” She looked back to Nahri and pointed at the half-full cup. “Finish that and go to sleep, Banu Nahida.”

The moment Nisreen shut the door, Dara shot Nahri a chiding look.

“Finish it all, Nahri. You heard her.”

“Are you my amma now?” Nahri scoffed, snatching up the cup and taking a gulp. “How are you feeling?”

“How am _I_ feeling? _I_ am not the one who passed out after trying to bring a dead man to life,” he said incredulously. “Nahri, you must rest. Perhaps we can try again in a few days-“

“We try again tomorrow night, Dara,” Nahri corrected, her voice fierce with resolve. “I have less than a week to do this. I won’t waste a single day.”

Dara chuckled and scooted closer to Nahri. He gently brushed her cheek with his knuckles.

“I think that with the progress you made tonight I can be lenient with the deadline, dear one.”

Nahri’s heart skipped a beat at the term of endearment. While the offer to extend the timeline was tempting, Nahri wanted to do this in a week. She wanted this done in a few days. The sooner Dara was mortal, the sooner she would be free of the Ghassan. 

“We will try every day if we have to, Dara.”

“Nahri, I will not see you exhaust yourself like that every night. It is not safe.”

“Then I will be careful about it.”

“Nahri-“

“ _Dara_ ,” she cut in sharply.

The intense indignation in her voice was enough to make Dara relent. 

He exhaled hopelessly, offering her a sheepish smile. “As you wish, little thief.”

Nahri finished the rest of the drink and set it down on the nightstand. The aching in her head instantly subsided and a gentle buzz fell over her.

“Are their supplies you require?”

Nahri nodded.

“Find out whatever it was that Nisreen gave me. I’m gonna need more of it.”

“It is done,” said Dara steadfastly. “Is there anything else?”

Nahri shook her head this time, falling back against the pillows. While she was no longer in pain, she was still exhausted. Dara waved a hand extinguishing the lights. He bent towards her and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

“Rest well, Banu Nahri,” he breathed.

A tremor went through Nahri as the dashing warrior pulled away, brushing strands of hair from her forehead. 

“You’ll be back tomorrow?” Nahri yawned as she watched the Afshin head for the window.

“I swear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I know that Nisreen technically knew about that brutal attack coming on, but like, mad respect for that lady. She put up with sooooo much BS and anytime Nahri needed some emotional support she said “f*ck it, come here bebe” - I hope you all got a Nisreen in your lives


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Nahri’s perspective: Nahri is ready to try her hand at making Dara mortal again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer boy for you - the end is kind of dialogue-heavy. Thanks for the kudos and comments

Nahri slept until 2 pm the following day, only awakened by the smell of lunch. Nisreen had come to check on her, pleased to see she was hard at work in bed, vigorously scrawling healing notes on a scroll.

 _“I’m glad that last night’s endeavors weren’t for nothing, Banu Nahida,”_ Nisreen had said reverently. _“I look forward to hearing about your findings.”_

Nahri realized then she would have to forge alternative findings to fool Nisreen tomorrow. It wouldn’t be difficult. Something to pander to her earlier lessons no doubt. But what had Nahri really learned?

She learned that like healing most ailments, it was required she lay her hands on him. She had learned that focusing on the organs, the insides, the blood had made all the difference. She could not stop if Dara groaned or gasped. She would need to keep going.

As the evening and Dara’s arrival neared, Nahri attempted to prep her mind. She tried to conjure up the images she would have to focus on in her head. Images of hearts and lungs and organs. Images of blood flowing and skin tissue. Images of his emerald eyes shifting to a dark onyx. 

What would a life with mortal Dara be like? He said he wouldn’t miss the power, but would he miss the excitement? The ability to jump down the throat of a rukh? Would having a second chance at a normal life really be what he _wanted_? What he _needed_? The Afshin seemed like the type who lived for daring rescues and danger. Could a life with her, as two mortal Daevas, be enough? Just a couple of centuries instead of entire millennia?

She would just have to take his word for it. None of the doubts could be present tonight when they tried their luck again.

Nahri slipped out of her bed and crossed to the fire alter. Nisreen had already tended to it earlier but recently, Nahri had found the motions to be a peaceful distraction whenever she felt bothered. 

But before she could so much as stoke it, a musical voice cut in.

“May I enter, Banu Nahida?”

Nahri smiled to herself and stood from her kneeling position at the alter.

“I’m decent, Afshin.”

Dara slipped inside the window with ease, a sly grin on his lips. “That is a shame.” He pulled a small tin from within his jacket. “I was able to secure some of the green powder Nisreen had that you asked for. I found it in an apothecary in the Daeva quarter. You will be amused to learn that it is a simple mixture used to alleviate the after-effects of drinking to excess. You need only mix it with cool water, I was told.”

Nahri accepted the tin, smirking. “Well, I’m glad to know the stabbing headache I had was on par with drinking too much wine...” She set the container on her dresser by a pitcher of water. 

When Nahri looked back at Dara he was still standing at the window, twisting his ring nervously on his finger. Nahri could only imagine what was going through his head. Was he ready to face that pain again? Was he ready to give up his way of life with almighty power? The way he had been for fourteen hundred years changing for _her_? She didn’t blame him for being anxious. 

“We don’t have to try it again, Dara.”

He arched a brow at her. “Are you still recovering?”

“No, I’m fine but I wonder if _you’re_ ready.”

Dara shook his head, his expression nonplussed. “I feel much better.”

Now it was Nahri’s turn to be nervous. She crossed to him, taking his hands in hers. The motion seemed to take Dara off guard momentarily, but he soon smiled softly at their intertwined fingers.

“Dara, it isn’t your physical well being I’m concerned about.”

He snorted. “That is comforting to hear.”

“Shut up,” Nahri said, rolling her eyes. “I was more referring to if you were _mentally_ ready.”

“Mentally?”

“Yes, Dara, it’s a big decision. You’re being very nonchalant about making such a huge change to who you are.”

Dara’s expression turned dour, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Being a slave is not a part of myself I revere, Nahri,” he murmured. “I would give anything to look in a mirror and not glimpse these green eyes again.”

“And... what about the power you have? All of your magic?”

Now he looked at her, grimacing. 

“I was the most feared warrior in my tribe without my slave magic, you know? Daeva in this city told legends of me and my bow before they knew I’d become a slave.” He shrugged. “Perhaps the only magic I would miss is being able to conjure wine with the snap of my fingers.”

Nahri smiled in spite of herself.

“You are making a very serious adjustment because I do not wish to become the emir’s wife and live in a palace, Afshin...”

The corner of Dara’s lip twitched up higher. He guided her to the bed where they took a seat, still holding each other’s hands. He looked at Nahri imploringly and she felt her stomach flip.

“As much as I look forward to stealing you away from the Qahtanis, I’m not only doing this for you,” he said. “I have long wanted a second chance at being mortal. I just did not think it possible. To have a heartbeat again. To feel hunger. To bleed. To... be with a beautiful woman.”

Nahri’s cheeks flushed. Dara had a way of making her feel like a silly little girl with a crush and she could tell he knew it by the wicked grin on his face.

“Well, I must ask you to remove your jacket and lie down on the bed, Afshin.”

“As my Banu Nahida commands.”

Dara shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the chair by her dresser. Nahri took a moment to appreciate his sculpted torso and the defined lines of his shoulders. He walked to her bed and laid down. Nahri felt the urge to straddle him again but fought it off remembering that she would need all of her strength. She tied back her mane of curls and read over the scroll she had placed on her desk one more time.

“How painful was it last night? Before I stopped, I mean,” Nahri asked.

She turned to face him and once more Dara took her breath away, lying in her bed with his fingers laced behind his neck. He stared up at the ceiling, patiently waiting for her.

“It was not the worst pain I have experienced,” he mused. “It reminded me much of when I’d been... drowned. I could feel a pounding in my chest and hear it in my ears. I could not draw in or release a breath. It was torturous, but there is something comforting about having been through it once before.”

Rinsing her hands in the basin of rose water and splashing her face, Nahri tried to ease her nerves with a few deep breaths. What if she killed him? If she’d learned anything from her time with Nisreen in the infirmary, it was that patients were not very reliable at diagnosing the danger of their pain. They could be an inch from dying and not even know it.

She crossed to her dresser and filled the cup by the pitcher of water. She opened the tin of green powder and added a few pinches till it vaguely resembled the color of the drink Nisreen had made her. Nahri twisted her wrist, mixing the contents together in the cup. 

“If I pass out, you know what to do,” she said, tapping a finger to the rim of the drink.

When she faced him this time, he looked rather concerned.

“Nahri, do you feel strong enough to try this again? Your well being is just as important as mine...”

“I’m just nervous. Otherwise, I feel fine,” she shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You _will_ likely hurt me and it will be fine.”

“You always know just what to say,” Nahri said flatly. 

Doing her best to control the shaking in her fingers, Nahri held them over his bare torso.

“Are you ready?” 

“As ready as I can be,” he said with a grim smile.

Nahri took a deep breath through her nose and flattened her palms on his chest. She shut her eyes tightly and reviewed the images she’d envisioned earlier.

Lungs surging with air. Veins, pumping with blood the color of the night sky. A beating heart. Bones that could be broken. Bottomless black eyes. Repeat.

The familiar pounding in her head was back, but it was just dull enough that she could keep going. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear Dara gasping and gripping at the sheets on the bed. Nahri tried to replay his words. _‘It was not the worst pain...’_ She could continue. Dara would be fine.

And she needed to focus. To focus _harder_.

_'Lungs. Heart. Blood. Bones. Eyes. Lungs. Heart. Blood. Bones. Eyes.'_

Something felt wrong. It was as though Nahri was using the entirety of her strength, but nothing was happening. She knew that _something_ should be happening. It was almost like she was squeezing a ripe fruit with all her might, but it had no give. It was hard as a rock.

Blood dripped from her nostril to her upper lip. She tried to imagine more organs, struggling to recall drawings from her texts and her books. Liver. Stomach. Kidneys. 

The blood trickled onto her chin.

Still no progress. The dull aching in her head abruptly shifted, beginning to bang in her skull like a drum. Nahri withdrew her hands reflexively, her eyes flying open and a startled gasp escaping her lips.

Dara drew in a raspy breath, sitting upright. She could see that his eyes had turned black. Hope rose in her chest but faded as they changed to a bright emerald green once more. Nahri fought to stand upright, bracing herself on the dresser. Her knees felt numb.

Dara blinked rapidly, looking over to her. His chest was heaving.

“For a moment... Nahri?”

She found herself involuntarily looking to the ceiling, then falling away from it.

_“Nahri, please drink...”_

The voice sounded as though it were coming from deep within a cave, echoing in her ears. The owner nowhere in sight. A smooth, cool surface touched her lips, liquid pouring into her mouth. She forced herself to swallow.

A headache Nahri didn’t know she had faded away. The darkness enveloping her vanished. She was lying in her bed, the lanterns on the walls snuffed out. Moonlight streaming in through the slats of the closed windows.

“Keep drinking.”

A cup tilted against her lips again. She followed the hand clutching it to see Dara sitting beside her. His forehead was creased with worry, eyes desperately searching her face. 

“Give it to me,” she croaked taking the cup from him and gulping back the contents. “How do you feel?”

Dara shot her a look. “ _I_ am not the one who collapsed to the floor an hour ago.”

“It was only an hour ago?” asked Nahri, pushing herself to sit upright. “Good, we have time to try again.”

“Nahri, no.”

Dara’s voice was firm, his brows furrowed. He shook his head adamantly.

“Just make me another glass. I can do it at least one more time... I just have to focus more-“

“Nahri, I mean it. _No_. I will leave if I have to.”

She threw back the remainder of the drink, then set it down on her nightstand. Truth be told, she did feel rather exhausted. Any attempt to bring him to life again would be useless.

Nahri sighed, nodding in defeat. “Fine, but at least tell me how you felt. What it was like this time. Was it different?”

He looked mildly annoyed at this, running a hand through his dark hair.

“You should sleep, Nahri,” Dara said. “You are very weak right now.”

“Well, then you better lie down with me,” she smirked.

He was exasperated, but Nahri could make out the hint of a smile playing on his lips. He scooted closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to lean back against his chest. Dara's fingers stroked the hair back from her sticky forehead. Nahri sighed contentedly, the scalding heat of his skin warming her like a hot bath.

“For medicinal purposes, please tell me how you felt in comparison to yesterday,” Nahri asked, forcing eyes to stay open. 

His chin rested on top of her head.

“The pain wasn’t necessarily worse, but it did spread to other parts of my body. My arms and legs this time.”

“Well, where _didn’t_ you feel pain?”

Silently, he considered this.

“I suppose my head? My stomach?”

“Mmm, I’m not visualizing the other organs well enough. I’ll need to study some diagrams before we try again.”

“Nahri... I’m not sure if you should try again.”

“If it makes you feel better, we can take a day off.”

“No, Nahri, we could take a week off and I do not know that I’d be comfortable giving it another go...”

“Dara, I know that I can do this.”

“Without killing yourself? Nahri, I could not live with myself if you died because of me and my foolish wish to be mortal.”

“Oh please, you’re being dramatic. I’m not going to die.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because I’m the Banu Nahida,” she said primly.

Nahri looked up at him. Dara did not seem as amused as she was. In fact, his face was grave.

“Nahri, I meant what I said in the temple... you should marry Jamshid. I’ve been in his company for weeks and he is very kind-“

“I don’t want to marry Jamshid. I want to be with you. I want to marry who I want to marry.”

“You would rather marry a murderer over the son of a Daeva Grand Wazir? A man who could give you money, give you children-“

“I lived without money for some time, Afshin. And children are overrated,” she said errantly. “Besides, when I make you mortal we should be able to conceive just fine.”

“You know, I met many Nahids and none of them were so overbearingly indignant.”

“I'm not overbearingly indignant, I'm a standard amount of indignant.”

His lips pressed to Nahri’s temple, she could feel the rumble of a laugh from his chest. Her limbs felt very heavy. The drowsiness only increased as she thought about studying anatomy tomorrow. Maybe Nisreen would have a scroll or two? The very thought of seeing Nisreen in the morning and working a full day only increased the heaviness of her eyelids. Her head fell back against Dara’s chest.

“We can take a break tomorrow if it pleases you, Afshin. I need to review my findings anyway.”

“You also have your visit to the Daeva boys of the Citadel tomorrow with Jamshid...”

“I assume you’ll be there as well?”

“But of course. Who else will protect you from the 12 year old warriors?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourself for a smattering of Jamshid in the next chapter  
> Also, I got carried away and finished all the damn chapters so now I just got edit each  
> May do a part two


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Nahri’s perspective: Jamshid, Nahri and Dara observe the Daeva Cadet training at the Citadel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’ll get lengthier, kids

Two boys sparred in the sand pit of the Citadel’s practice arena. One thirteen years old and the other eleven. Much to Nahri’s surprise, the eleven year old was fairing well. He dodged each of the older boys blows with ease.

Nahri’s stomach lurched at every swing they took. She had no idea how she would regrow one of their hands if it were sliced off.

“Banu Nahida, I assure you that they are only sparring swords. You needn’t look so concerned,” Jamshid said, sitting in the vacant spot next to her.

“Well, they look very real,” Nahri murmured. “The younger one is doing very well.”

“Ghani. Yes, he shows great promise. Very quick, but his opponent, Tahir is very strong.”

Tahir braced his sparring sword against Ghani’s shoving him backwards and sprawling into the sand. The boy quickly scrambled to his feet, rolling to the side. Tahir followed him like a lion stalking its prey.

“The technique here seems to involve a lot of dodging...” Nahri observed.

“Unfortunately there really isn’t any technique. The Daeva boys of the Citadel undergo different curriculum than the Geziri boys. They have limited time with swords and even more limited time with bows. Most of their lessons revolve around strategy and theory.”

“Why?” Nahri asked, nonplussed.

Jamshid looked to her with a wry smile.

“Because the last time Daeva’s wielded bows and arrows they staged an uprising and committed genocide.”

Nahri stiffened not sure what to say to that. In a way, she understood the hesitancy of the people of Daevabad when it came to arming the tribe who had once attempted mass murder and rebellion. On the other, that was over a thousand years ago, and sending Daeva and Geziri cadets onto the streets with different levels of training was practically signing a death warrant. Perhaps there was something she could do about that. 

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” she muttered. “You’re a good archer though, aren’t you?”

“I am... adequate,” Jamshid smirked.

“He’s modest. He’s really very good,” came Dara’s voice. He walked down the steps of the arena and took a seat beside Jamshid.

Jamshid’s faced flushed red as he ducked his head in embarrassment. 

Dara scowled at the sandpit where Tahir had just lunged for Ghani and face planted, sending his sword flying. Ghani once again had the upper hand and made a mad dash for his opponent. Tahir rolled to grab his discarded sword and brought it up blocking Ghani’s attack.

“Well, this is disappointing,” murmured Dara. 

“I thought you were going to wait outside until they transitioned to archery, Afshin?” Nahri said leaning forward to glimpse him around Jamshid. 

Nahri imagined this physical display of the discrepancy in Daeva training would do nothing but upset Dara. 

He shrugged his shoulders. “I got bored and I figured my Banu Nahida would be grateful for my company. But if you are going to be so unappreciative then I’m delighted to give Jamshid the pleasure of my conversation.”

Nahri rolled her eyes playfully and turned her attention back to the training pit. 

Tahir had Ghani pinned to the ground, the sparring sword to his throat. Ghani dropped his sword and Tahir relented. The other cadets offered brief, polite applause prompting Nahri to join. 

Jamshid and Dara however clapped a little louder than necessary drawing the eyes of the cadets and instructors. They all stiffened.

Jamshid laughed softly. “We’ve made them nervous.”

“By applauding?” snorted Dara.

“The Banu Nahida, the Grand Wazir’s son, and Darayavahoush e-Afshin are watching them spar with a weapon they seldom use. I’d say the pressure is certainly on,” Jamshid said pointedly. 

“They wouldn’t feel pressure about the Banu Nahida if they saw her throw a knife...” the Afshin quipped.

Below the instructor ordered two more boys to begin sparring. Nahri fought off a yawn. Today had been exhausting. She had been on her feet for hours in the infirmary and since she had spent the time between the end of her shift and her trip to the Citadel combing the Royal library for anatomical diagrams, she had not been able to sit until she’d clambered into the palanquin. 

All the way over she’d been studying drawings of organs. The curve of the stomach. The edges of the colon. The indents and divets of the heart. By Nahri’s logic, the more specifics she was able to envision of the body part, the likelier it would be to appear in Dara’s body when placing her hands on him.

Her eyes flickered over to her Afshin. He stared at the young boys sparring with paternal disapproval. 

“Dara, were you aware that the Daeva cadets receive different training?” Jamshid asked.

“It is unsurprising,” he sneered. “I suppose that... I may be partly to blame for the deviation in the curriculum.”

Nahri noted the shame that flickered across his face. He was doing it again. Stewing in guilt and self-pity. Nothing would get done that way. 

“Well, Dara, I know that you planned to observe archery but perhaps you could assist?” Nahri suggested. 

“Yes!” Jamshid said, practically jumping in his seat. 

Dara looked at the two, arching a dark brow. “Is this... something they would enjoy?”

“Of course, Afshin!” Jamshid said incredulously. 

Dara seemed to consider this.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Alright then. As long as my Nahid permits it...”

But Nahri could see the glint in his eye. The excitement of getting to share his skill and interact with people who didn’t fear him. Perhaps they should, but they did not.

“Will you be nice? You won’t get impatient with them?”

Dara snorted. “Did you forget our knife throwing lesson? I was a paragon of patience and understanding.”

It was true. Dara had been very patient with Nahri. He had not grown cross or angry with her even once. 

“Then your Nahid permits this,” Nahri nodded.

Jamshid leaned back onto his elbows allowing Nahri a better look at Dara. He wore a soft smile, for once appearing lighter than air. She treasured these moments. They had been fast fleeting since their arrival in Daevabad. Even when children and nobles were adoring him she could see he was wracked with guilt. They had no idea who they were admiring. Or worse, they did and they didn’t condemn what he had done.

Jamshid jogged down to the instructors a few moments later informing them that when they moved on to archery, Dara would like to assist in the lessons. A flurry of excitement rushed through the boys who quickly quieted themselves when Dara waved to them.

Despite Nahri’s initial apprehension that Dara would be too brusque with the boys, Dara proved to be just as amicable and good-natured with them as he had been with the children at the Grand Temple. 

Straightening elbows and leveling shoulders, he addressed each boy individually when they’d entered the archery field.

“It doesn’t make up for a failed education in arms, but having Darayavahoush e-Afshin give them a lesson will make great strides for these young men,” Jamshid remarked fondly. “Their confidence alone...”

One of the boys released an arrow that sank directly into the center of the chest on the target dummy. He looked completely in awe of himself. Dara clapped him on the shoulder, congratulating him. 

He made his way down the line of boys, all testing the modifications he’d given them. Each one hitting their targets, no person was spared a flattering remark from Dara. 

“If being your guard doesn’t work out then Dara absolutely has a future as an instructor here at the Citadel. An ex-slave Afshin Daeva position is certainly open,” Jamshid said teasingly.

Nahri smiled to herself. Yes, he seemed a good teacher. Being her personal guard was a request she had yet to make. Perhaps she could ask for a position for him here instead.

She felt a sudden stab of guilt. Would she have the right, the opportunity to ask for such a thing after making him mortal? Something told her that while she hadn’t been explicitly forbidden from trying to bring Dara to life that she wouldn’t be well received if she succeeded. The royal family’s fear of Manizeh’s powers ran deep. Nahri imagined that resurrecting a dead Daeva may fall into the realm of becoming threateningly powerful to the Qahtanis. 

Would they need to run? Escape the city under the cover of night and never look back?

Was Dara prepared to do such a thing? He would be leaving his home yet again. What if she wasn’t enough for him? What would they even do tucked away from Daevabad? Did they even have a future?

Nahri’s mind swam with questions that she wasn’t certain she wanted answers to. She suddenly felt nauseous. 

When she raised her eyes Dara was looking up at her from his position on the field, his brows knitted together in concern. She gave him a half-hearted smile. Nahri didn’t want to ruin this brief moment of happiness for him. But judging by the way Dara pursed his lips before turning back to the boy he was working with, he didn’t buy it.

When they met for their next session tomorrow evening, she would have to come clean. The man who jumped down a rukh’s throat didn’t strike her as someone who viewed outcomes practically. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still editing the rest of the chapters but expect more regular updates


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dara’s perspective: Nahri and Dara discuss what their life may look like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all this is some sappy self indulgent fluff that I hope you guys are here for

When Dara climbed into Nahri’s room on the fourth night, he found her leaning over her dresser, staring down at a size-able book. 

He crossed over behind her, gently hooking his finger on a coil of hair that had escaped her hastily tied bun. The corner of her cheek lifted.

“Good evening, Banu Nahida,” Dara said softly, his warm breath tickling her neck. He peered around her, down at the book. There were detailed sketches of organs, captioned in Divasti. “What is this reading material you are so dutifully studying?”

“A study of the Daeva body,” she murmured.

“Is it really so different from the human body?”

“It’s fairly similar... apart from being made of fire. The colors of everything differ too,” she murmured. “Whenever I’ve attempted to revive you I try to picture these things. Organs and black blood and bones. I figure the more vivid my mental images are, the greater the chances of success.” 

Dara felt an involuntary smile spread on his lips. A greater chance of success. What would it be like? Waking up from the pain to find himself alive. With a beating heart. With skin that could bleed. With the dark eyes of his people instead of the green eyes of a slave.

“Dara, with the chances of success improved I think we should discuss what this means.” Nahri turned to face him, leaning back on her dresser. “I wonder if you understand that this changes everything.” 

The concern etched on her face made Dara frown. He took one of her hands, guiding her to sit with him on the bed. His thumb slid over her knuckles.

“What troubles you, my love?” 

Nahri sighed. “I’m not sure how well received this transition will be, Dara. Ghassan is already wary of me becoming a _mildly_ competent healer. If I can bring you to life I can’t imagine the horror.”

“I assume that the royal family would be incredibly grateful to you for turning Darayavahoush e-Afshin into a man of flesh and blood,” he smirked. “It will even the odds between me and their entire army.”

“The idea of you being easier to kill isn’t exactly comforting, Dara.”

He shrugged. “So we leave the palace. Leave Daevabad.”

Nahri looked up from their hands to meet Dara’s gaze. Her pleading eyes making his stomach churn with worry.

“Dara, you would leave your home so soon after returning?”

“Nahri, this is not my home any longer,” he remarked with a snort. “That is very evident to me. Perhaps that is for the best.”

“What do you mean? People adore you here.”

“They adore me for the wrong reasons, Nahri,” he sighed. “The things they’ve said... they use my history to justify old prejudices I no longer stand for. I told you, I was taught the shafit would bring the wrath of another Suleiman upon my people. _Fourteen hundred years later..._ it is quite clear that is not the truth.”

_‘All of my crimes and killings were for nothing. The death of my family for nothing.’_

Dara felt a lump in his throat. He struggled to swallow it.

“I cannot take back the things I’ve done to the shafit. But I can try to make amends by leaving this city and taking away those people’s excuse for outdated blood-based hatred.”

Her free hand cupped Dara’s cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn’t realized had been shed. 

“And you would... feel no sorrow abandoning Daevabad? Abandoning a chance at a career? You could be a guard or a warrior or teach the Daeva boys of the Citadel-“

“It does not matter what I _feel_ , Nahri. I’ve long given up the right to let my feelings affect my choices. But you helped me realize that that is an opportunity, a gift,” he nodded. “And I am no longer the man who wanted to be a warrior. I'm... Creator, I'm tired.”

Nahri bit her lower lip, he could see it start to tremble. Her eyes swam with tears.

“Oh, no, Nahri. Don’t cry,” Dara said pulling her to his chest. Her arms encircled his, fingers cupping his shoulder blades. “Why are you crying?”

“I just find it hard to believe that I... that a life with me - a _normal_ life - would be enough for someone like _you_.”

Startled Dara separated them holding her at arm’s length. She looked more distressed than he'd ever seen her. Humiliated. Insecure. How could she even begin to think that she was not enough? She was the whole world. Nahri had been the first person to show him kindness in centuries. She’d saved his life. She had stuck by his side knowing the atrocities of his past determined to help him find happiness.

Yet here she sat, tears streaming down her face and waiting for his answer with bated breath. His hands lifted, gently cupping her face.

“How could you not be enough for someone like me? Nahri, you are _everything_.”

Nahri sniffed, gently stroking his forearm.

“And will you feel the same years from now? If I succeed and we leave Daevabad, I can’t imagine there will be many battles to be had...”

“Why do you think me so eager for battle? I’ve had enough war to last me millennia.”

“Well, there may not be much excitement or adventure for you in a normal life.”

Dara chuckled at this, rolling his eyes. Nahri looked away, her expression sour. He lifted her chin with his knuckle offering a sheepish smile that she tried to match, but the result was so half-hearted Dara laughed. He pulled her onto his lap.

“In regards to the excitement, I have over a thousand years of anecdotal proof it is overrated,” he smirked. “And as far as adventures go, there are still plenty I have yet to go on that I would love to have with you.”

Though her shoulders were slumped, Dara could tell he’d succeeded, if only a little, in lifting her spirits. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her forehead to his. 

“We do not have to try anything tonight,” he said gently. 

“I only have three days, Afshin.”

“I’ve told you that you are no longer obligated to fulfill that timeline...”

“That timeline is important to me.”

“Well, what if we stopped the clock for tonight?”

“I’m _very_ motivated right now,” she purred. “And if we want to make any progress, perhaps we should... warm-up.”

Dara grinned, taking her meaning. “Is this an order for your Afshin, Banu Nahida?”

“Consider it an order, my Afshin.”

With that said, Dara gripped Nahri’s waist flipping her from his lap to her back on the bed. 

“These late nights may be the death of me, Dara,” Nahri snickered, propping herself up on her elbow. 

He knotted his fingers behind his neck, leaning back into the pillows, so much softer than the ones on his bed in the Pramukh house. 

“I’ve yet to try out my new theory and you’ve already exhausted me,” she added.

“Would you like me to apologize? You seemed to be enjoying yourself if memory serves me well.”

Nahri lifted a strand of his hair twirling it around her finger. He glanced over at her taking a moment to appreciate her flushed cheeks and the way she bit her lower lip. She dropped the lock of hair and let her finger run down his neck and over the curve of his chest, her eyes studying him.

“I always forget how hot your skin is.”

“I am quite literally made of fire,” he said flatly. Dara’s eyes turned somber, he shifted his head to look at her. “You’ve asked me, but I’ve not asked you. If you were to succeed, would you miss me like this?”

“This must be a historical event... Darayavahoush e-Afshin fretting over his appearance.” Nahri’s smile broadened, eyes dancing with amusement. “As long as I can have you like this, in my bed, then there is nothing to miss.“

Dara fought the urge to beam like an idiot at her words. She had no idea the power she held over him. What her teasing compliments meant to him. 

Nahri nestled into the crook of his shoulder, pulling his strong arms around her. “Tell me of these adventures that we will be going on.”

The corner of Dara’s lip hitched up.

“Well, I suppose we’d start wherever sounds most appealing to you... We would have to be cautious but Am Gezira, the home of Zaydi al Qahtani is - and I am reluctant to say this - quite beautiful. There’s also Ta Ntry where the Ayaanle hail from. It’s very far from here...”

“That’s the one closest to Cairo?”

“Yes and no. Cairo is also very close to Qart Sahar,” Dara said. A wave of peace washed over him in the moment, arms close around someone he cared for, telling tales of a bright future. “Qart Sahar is home to the Sahrayn. They travel on ships made from smoke over the dunes. Most Daevas are wary of Qart Sahar as there are many fallen human civilizations.”

“Going back to Egypt for a minute could be nice,” Nahri mused, playing with his fingers. 

“We could also go south through old Harappa to Agnivansha. It’s very peaceful. Very green. Misty and lush. They make a conscious effort to stay out of Daevabad politics.”

“I like the sound of that,” Nahri scoffed.

“ _Which_ is why they probably wouldn’t like us to stay there long...”

“Ah.”

“And I’m not sure I could take you through Agnivansha without getting us executed actually. They have many jewels and sculptures and valuables that would no doubt make your palms itch.”

Nahri laughed against him, playfully squeezing his hands. He tried not to think too hard about how surreal this scene was. Him lying in bed with a beautiful woman. It was far too normal for someone like him, but oh, was he in love with this feeling.

“Well, _where_ is a place we could go without tempting my criminal inclinations or upsetting the civilians with our relation to Daevabad politics?”

“Tukharistan, perhaps. To the East. Through the Karakorum mountains. The Tukharistani are traders of rare goods. They travel using abandoned human paths with caravans conjured from smoke.”

“These goods sound tempting...” Nahri said, a smile in her voice.

“They are, but perhaps not for you... Golden apples with healing properties. Charmed pendants. Keys that fit any lock. All items that aid in services you can do on your own.” 

Visions of them traveling the world together swam in his mind. Not soaring through the air on a magic carpet or outrunning monsters, just a man and a woman enjoying the company of one another. Hiking over dunes hand in hand or riding horses through rocky mountain ledges.

Of course, that didn’t change that the Peri were still after him and the ifrit intent on capturing Nahri in the name of the long-dead Manizeh. Nahri must have been thinking the same thing as she said:

“But Dara... where can we _really_ go that is safe?”

He felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. Not because he had no idea, but because he _did_. Because ever since the night that Nahri laid hands on him and he felt a heart beating in his chest he had gone to bed imagining a life with her. From a practical standpoint. Ever since that evening, he had not checked his expectations. He had, for the first time in a long time, allowed himself to get carried away with possibilities. 

“Until the matters with the ifrit and the Peri are settled, we could find somewhere in the northern hills of Daevastana. Along the mountain range. Tucked out of sight.”

Nahri took one of his hands, intertwining their fingers. She shifted slightly to look up at him.

“How will you have all of those adventures tucked out of sight with me?”

Still, she concerned herself with his happiness. How could he make her understand that her company was enough? That he didn’t require grand adventures. He just wanted her. 

“I told you that there were many adventures I have yet to go on. None of those adventures require traveling,” Dara said quietly. Nahri’s gaze softened. “There was much I was unable to do in my life. I imagine it would be quite an adventure to court a beautiful woman with a proclivity for lock picking and thievery.”

She reached up to stroke the hard line of his jaw. “You’re to _marry_ me, Darayavahoush. Not court me.”

“You would not have married Munthadir till you were twenty-five, Nahri,” said Dara pointedly. “We can immediately announce our betrothal to put an end to your engagement with the emir, but we can wait to be married.”

He waited for her to protest, but instead, she only grinned, giving his cheek a gentle pat of satisfaction before settling back into his chest. 

“And what would courting me be like? I’ve never been courted.”

“Well, the standard for royals such as yourself would be chaperoned suppers and teas and walks through the city. Before sundown of course.”

“You speak as though you have experience,” she remarked.

He thought back to his first days as an Afshin guarding Daeva nobles and Nahids courting one another. Looming behind them as they strolled hand in hand through the quarter, keeping a wary eye on any unsavory looking citizens. Striding alongside a palanquin hearing kisses being stolen within the velvet curtains. Standing at the doors of the Grand Temple as a couple was wed, hearing the appreciative applause for their union. He’d always observed. Never participated.

“One of your first jobs as an Afshin is to guard those sorts of outings.”

“Well, how would you court me as an Afshin?”

Dara let out an involuntary snort. Afshins were intended to train, fight, and survive. The luxury of ‘courting’ was for the rich or the foolish.

“Likely I wouldn’t court you. Our families would decide if we were a good match, they’d send us off together a few times. If you and I decided that we could stand to be in one another’s company then we would be married,” he explained. His mother and father’s relationship came to mind. Founded on a mutual understanding that this was a business transaction and that they must protect their children. “My mother and father rarely saw one another. Afshin’s are nearly constantly in training and when they aren’t training they are on duty and when they aren’t doing either of those things, they’re either at war or with a Nahid.”

Nahri’s hand snaked upward and around the back of his neck.

“Fortuitously, I presently only have one Nahid to protect and no wars to fight. I imagine this will be the only Afshin marriage in history where the husband and wife see one another regularly.”

“Tell me what an Afshin wedding is like,” Nahri yawned. “I imagine it’s a modest affair.”

“Yes, well the Daeva as a people have very ceremonial weddings, but Afshin weddings are more like... drunken celebrations? There is the exchanging of vows and much wine... and that’s really all there is to it,” Dara cringed knowing the idea sounded very unromantic when spoken aloud. To his surprise, Nahri rolled over on her stomach to smile up at him.

“That sounds much better than a ceremony.”

Pleasantly surprised, Dara grinned back at her. “I agree. I pray that you never have to bear witness to a Geziri wedding. They’re long and torturous affairs. The bride and groom are often too spent to consummate that night from what I’ve heard.”

“Oh yes, it will be much easier to consummate after a party I imagine.”

“On the night of an Afshin marriage, the couple receives a potion from the Nahid family that supposedly preserves energy and fertility for encouragement actually.”

“A potion for energy and fertility?” Nahri balked.

Dara shot her a skeptical look. “May your ancestors strike me down, I suspect that the potion was merely grape wine and black tea.”

“Well, did it work?”

“You’re asking the wrong Afshin. I never married or had children if you recall. Another adventure to go on with you that won’t require roaming the world...” he trailed off at the amused look on her face. He flushed with embarrassment. “Eventually, Banu Nahida. Not the night that we are wed of course.”

“I figured eventually, Dara. Calm yourself.”

Quiet settled between them. Nahri let her finger draw circles on the sculpted lines of his chest. He felt very exposed having laid his soul bare before her. All of his hopes and ambitions for the future spread out before her like an intricately illustrated map. He imagined the pressure to make him mortal now must be immense. Dara briefly considered apologizing but decided against it. Perhaps she wasn’t even feeling that pressure in the slightest. Perhaps she was just as enchanted and inspired by the future as he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I developed type two diabetes writing something this sweet and soft


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Nahri’s perspective: Nahri finds help for Dara from someone unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yesterday, one small move of my thumb and I deleted everything else I wrote for this. I’m slowly catching up back up but the next few updates may be slower!

Another failed attempt. Even vividly picturing the organs in her mind, Nahri had been unable to bring Dara to life. He’d consoled her all the same, but she had not allowed herself to lose hope. She still had two more days.

Technically she had five years till she married Munthadir, but she wanted this done in that seven-day timeline Dara had given her. She needed help.

Together they straightened the unmade cots in the infirmary. Nisreen’s sheets were tucked significantly neater than Nahri’s. Nahri wasn’t sure why the state of the bed mattered if someone was just going to bleed all over it anyway. 

“Nisreen, I have a question,” Nahri said shaking out a white sheet. 

Nisreen smoothed the creases on the bed adjacent to Nahri. “Go on?” 

Nahri took a deep breath and forced herself to ask the question as casually as possible.

“Could I create a body organ with magic?”

Nisreen shot her a skeptical look as she patted the pillow on her cot. “A _functioning_ body organ?”

“That would be ideal,” Nahri deadpanned.

They moved to the next set of cots. Nisreen seemed to still be considering the idea. “I saw your mother heal a great many organs to the point where they appeared to be new, but I can’t say she made them from thin air. That’s not really how healing magic works to my knowledge.”

Nahri tucked the sheet in a little harder than necessary. Was she doomed to try over and over again with Dara, getting just to the point of almost breaking through without ever actually doing anything? It seemed a cruel curse.

“I never asked, but it is possible that Manizeh conjured a new organ as a replacement. I imagine like alchemy, you could exchange a bad organ for a good one,” Nisreen mused smoothing the next sheet out. “Why are you so keen on growing whole organs?”

“Just like you said. Replacements,” Nahri replied quickly. Too quickly. “Perhaps someone needs a new kidney. We could grow one and pickle it or something...”

A hand fell over Nahri’s shoulder, she turned to see Nisreen offering her a small but appreciative smile.

“Banu Nahida, you _will_ get there. I must admit, I am impressed at your initiative. You show great promise. You only need to have more faith in yourself.”

Nahri felt a stab of guilt at Nisreen’s kind words. They were prompted by a lie technically.

But maybe there was something to what she said. Nahri truly intended to make Dara mortal but did she go into it with all the confidence that she could? No, not necessarily. She was hopeful but not confident.

Then there was the mention of an exchange. Even if Nahri could obtain organs there wasn’t really a possibility of implanting them in Dara. But all of the progress they had made couldn’t be for nothing. There was something to laying her hands on the Afshin that held potential. He didn’t feel that beating in his chest for no reason.

After Nahri had finished in the infirmary she decided to glimpse the Royal Library one last time for anything that could help her. She pushed the Nahid texts from her mind and instead approached the standard medicine section. Nahri had three hours till she met with Dara. Two hours to find something in these books that would help her. Finally, she came across a section in a book for the 1600s stating that the presence of a Daeva’s relic could stimulate healing. Could mend bones faster or even revive someone who had recently passed. The theory was rarely mentioned in the books she had read as most everyone constantly wore their relics.

But what good would this do her if Dara didn’t have a relic? Nahri slammed the book shut.

Well, that was it. With two hours left till Dara’s arrival, her last chance gone. Hopes dashed.

“I’m appalled that you came here without me.”

Nahri looked up to see Ali standing before her, a bundle of scrolls tucked beneath his arm.

She offered him a wry smile. “Yes well, trust me, you’d be more appalled at what I’m reading.”

He peered over at her book, a puzzled expression on his face. “I’m never averse to any reading material. Especially when it is so old. Healing techniques,” he muttered. “Is your training with Nisreen really coming along so poorly that you would rather consult books than her counsel?”

Nahri shook her head. Ali’s hatred for Dara ran too deep for her to disclose why she was here.

“No, she’s a fine teacher. It’s just that this time she didn’t have the answer I needed,” said Nahri bitterly. 

Ali nodded. “Well, if I can be of service, please let me know.”

“I will.”

As Ali turned to leave, something struck Nahri. Alizayd had researched Dara _heavily_. He had known Dara's history before she'd even arrived in Daevabad. Could he potentially know what had become of the Great Afshin’s relic? Was it rumored to be at the sight where Dara had died, shattered and in pieces? She’d dig through every inch of sand and pick up all the fragments to find them if it meant she could make him mortal.

“Ali, actually you may be able to help,” she called.

The prince turned around, his brows raised.

“You’ve done much research on Darayavahoush and his past,” Nahri said cautiously. She carefully watched for any hostility, but Ali merely squared his shoulders. “You wouldn’t happen to know what became of his relic, would you?”

Ali stiffened. He briefly appeared as though he’d been slapped. Nahri tried to keep her expression impassive, swallowing the gasp in her throat. Ali gathered himself, studying Nahri.

He approached her again. “Why ask me?”

“Well, as I said - I know you know a lot about his history-“

“Why do you ask me _now_? While you are pouring over books on healing. Is the Afshin ill?” 

Nahri pursed her lips, disregarding the hopefulness that’s laced his tone. She was sure nothing would give Ali more satisfaction than Dara dropping dead. Perhaps more satisfaction than if he were exiled from Daevabad even.

Nahri felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. Maybe, just maybe, Ali would help her. Even if he knew nothing of Dara’s relic, he had spent hours reading almost every book he could find. Maybe he’d found something somewhere in his history books where someone had resurrected the dead.

“He is not ill. My Afshin... Darayavahoush wishes to be free of his slave magic and become mortal.”

Ali’s mouth opened and closed in what Nahri assumed was disbelief. He looked down at the chair across the table from Nahri and gestured to it uneasily.

“May I sit?”

“Of course,” she said. 

She gave Ali a moment to catch his breath. When he looked back to her he appeared both astonished and bewildered.

“I don’t understand... _why_?”

Nahri considered lying, but why start now? The truth seemed to be working and Nahri imagined that if her answer was that it would be to get her out of marrying his brother, Ali would be glad to assist. She laced her fingers together on the table squeezing her knuckles till they turned white.

“Because I want to leave this palace and marry him instead of marrying Munthadir,” she said as plainly as possible. “I do not love your brother. His heart also _clearly_ belongs to another. The only people who want me here in this palace are Ghassan, Nisreen, Jamshid, and Kaveh. Everyone else is terrified of me.”

“I do not dislike your company,” Ali murmured.

A pang of guilt hit Nahri’s chest. She reached across the table, gripping his hand.

“I would not be going far. Just to Daevastana. Dara’s presence here... he feels it is doing more harm than good. He wants to leave. I want to leave. But the only way we can see your father dismissing this notion of me marrying your brother is if I have an alternative. I want that to be Dara.”

Ali’s sorrowful gaze became understanding. “And having his relic would aid you in making him mortal?”

“Maybe, but truthfully it’s the best chance I’ve got, Ali.” She could see that he was at war with himself trying to decide whether or not to help her. Clearly, Ali knew more than he was saying. “I know that you hate him. You and everyone in this city have every right to. But imagine if he no longer posed more of a threat than one of your guards? Imagine the Daevas seeing Darayavahoush e-Afshin leave them, _ashamed_ of their behavior. Think of all the good this could do for you and the people of Daevabad.”

Ali nodded again. “Nahri, just... please let me think. Give me a moment.”

“Of course.”

Nahri patiently awaited his response. She watched as he chewed the inside of his cheek and drummed his fingers on the table. His eyes flickered back and forth, as though he were anticipating every potential outcome. What did he know? Right now, he very well could be the only thing standing between her and bringing Dara to life. Finally, after what felt like an hour, the prince met her gaze.

“I will help you,” he said. “If you breathe a word of this to a single soul, we’ll both be executed. Do you understand?”

Nahri gave another fervent nod. 

Ali exhaled. “I won’t say how, but I can get you the Afshin’s relic. When do you need it?”

“As soon as possible,” Nahri said reflexively.

“Alright. In an hour and a half come back here and look under this table.”

Too stunned to find the words, Nahri could only nod once more. Ali extended a hand to her. She accepted and he gave it a resolute shake before rising to his feet. Without a word, he headed for the exit.

“Ali, wait.”

He halted in his tracks and turned to face her.

“Just... thank you.”

The determined look on his face softened. “Don’t thank me, just succeed and promise me that you will visit.”

The corner of Nahri’s lip quirked up. “Of course, my friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious about some song that give you heavy Danarhi vibes? I just found one called “Samson” by Regina Spektor


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Nahri's perspective: Nahri returns Dara his relic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want it to be perfectly clear that I am very aware I am moonwalking onto the dance floor of Danarhi non-canon compliant self-indulgence and I am doing so with a smile on my face

After pacing in her quarters for an hour and a half, Nahri snuck out into the hall and down to the Royal Library. Her knees trembled as _'the table'_ came into view. Part of her wondered if this had been a trap. If out of the shadows, Ghassan would appear and announce that she would have her throat slit at dawn.

Glancing around the desolate library to ensure that no one was in view, Nahri bent over and looked under the table. Wedged into the top left corner was a very small box. She pulled it down with shaking hands and with another quick scan of the area, she slowly lifted the lid. Inside was a brass amulet.

She couldn’t be positive but it looked very old and _very_ important.

Tucking it into the folds of her abaya, Nahri stole out of the library and into the corridor. When she neared her quarters, one of her aids was setting a tray with her supper outside the door.

“Thank you,” Nahri said, clearing her throat.

The girl jumped, startled, then pressed her hands together and bowed. Nahri waved her away.

When the aid finally vanished out of sight, Nahri collected the tray and shouldered her way into the room.

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten-“

Nahri gasped throwing up the tray at the sound of Dara’s voice. Before the food could spill to the ground, he extended a hand. The meal froze midair then slowly reassembled back onto the tray, before drifting out of her hands and over to her dresser. In the chaos, the small box had tumbled from Nahri's abaya onto the floor.

Dara crossed the room to stand before her and stared down at the box with an arched brow.

“What is this?” he asked curiously.

Frozen, Nahri tried to find the right words. No, they weren’t coming easily.

“You should sit down,” she finally said.

Casting a leery glance her way, Dara sat upon the edge of the bed. Nahri retrieved the box from its spot on the ground and took a seat next to him. She inhaled deeply through her nose and explained what she had learned in the library about relics stimulating healing.

He frowned. “Nahri, my relic is long gone.”

Nahri’s fingers quaked on the lid of the box. Dara’s brows knitted together in concern. 

His voice was barely above a whisper. “What is in that box, Nahri?”

It sounded like he already knew, or at least had strong suspicions. She took another deep breath and opened the lid. Dara peered inside then withdrew in horror.

He gasped, clutching his chest. A look of outrage and shock etched across his features. “Where did you-”

“Dara, it’s a _lot_ to take in. Give yourself a moment to process this and then I’ll explain.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, still struggling to draw in an even breath.

They sat quietly. Nahri was frozen, the box still open in her lap. She could only imagine the thousands of thoughts going through his mind seeing the one thing in the world that could have saved him from centuries of slavery. The thing he claimed was at the bottom of a well sitting in a pile of his decayed remains. Finally, Dara composed himself. He pointed to the box, his finger shaking.

“May-may I?”

“Of course, Dara. It is yours,” Nahri said.

With both hands he picked up the amulet, turning it this way and that in awe. 

“Nahri... how did you get your hands on this?”

She debated on whether to give him the specifics, concerned that he would blame Ali. That he would slaughter all the Qahtanis in a fit of rage. Why had they held onto this? She would be quite angry in his shoes.

“Dara,” she said cradling his face in her hands. “You have said it before. You have a weakness for me.”

He nodded.

“And you’ve said that you are no longer a man who takes pleasure in murdering innocents. You want to make amends. To forget the past.”

He nodded again, but his expression was wary.

“I told Alizayd our plan-“

“Nahri, _why_?” he croaked.

“He takes comfort in you leaving Daevabad. In you no longer possessing the power to slaughter the city. He wanted to help,” she explained slowly. His jaw tightened. “Ali did not say how or why, but he is the one who secured your relic. He is the reason you now hold it in your hands, Dara. And I know you may be mad, but he helped us. Even if it was for me, he helped you.”

Dara shut his eyes and nodded once more. When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth, “I do not blame Alizayd... but his father on the other hand... How could they... how could they doom me to such a fate?”

His eyes swam with tears of anger. Smoke curled around his collar. Nahri did not let go of his face.

“Because you murdered defenseless people fourteen hundred years ago and they are frightened of you, Darayavahoush. You are _frightening_ to them.”

The tears rolled freely down his cheeks. More smoke began to swirl around his legs.

“But you are not frightening to _me_ , Dara,” Nahri said. “And you have a chance now to prove that you are not a man to be frightened of. Not any longer. Ali doubts you. Show him that you have changed.”

Dara closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Nahri pulled him into her arms, he trembled in her embrace. Sobs sending tremors down his back. She knew that when they next met each other's eyes Dara would either be a vengeful god or an emotional wreck. She wasn't necessarily equipped to handle either, but Nahri much preferred talking Dara up rather than down. 

When he finally pulled away and opened his eyes, Nahri was relieved to see that they were not alight with fury. They were sad. The smoke surrounding him evaporated.

“Alizayd is... more courageous than I gave the boy credit for. I‘ve no doubt that Ghassan would have never returned this to me and Munthadir, if he was aware, is too fearful of his father to go against him,” Dara admitted, his voice thick. “Nahri, you... you are right. I can say I am no longer the Scourge but I have to prove that for it to be true. And-“ his voice broke and hopelessness as she had never seen washed over him.

Nahri held his hands, squeezing them tenderly. When he looked back at her, the tears were still overflowing.

“Nahri, I would have hidden this relic too. I was a monster. They were protecting their people,” he said, breaking down. “Creator, Nahri, I deserved every century of slavery I served.”

After what he had done, Nahri couldn’t bring herself to disagree. It was a cruel fate he had endured, but the shafit were safer for it. It had clearly changed him into someone who resented war. Who recognized his prejudices. Dara had done his time of punishment and now was the time for moving forward.

“None of this matters now. You can’t keep living in the past. We’ve got to move forward.”

“Yes, I know. I am... I am ready,” Dara said, nodding vigorously. He released a long, shuddering exhale. “It will be the death of me to thank Alizayd...” he laughed tearfully.

Nahri brushed away his tears. “He only asked in return that I come back to visit him. You have plenty of time to work up the courage to thank him in person.”

After a few more moments of Dara twisting his relic in his fingers and collecting his thoughts, Nahri finally stood and walked to her dresser. She picked at the food forcing herself to eat despite her lack of appetite. She would need all the energy she could get. Dara was suddenly beside her preparing her green drink. He was still trembling as he stirred in the powder but going through the motions seemed to calm him.

When Dara had set the spoon down, Nahri passed him an orange slice. He accepted with a sheepish smile.

“Give me a moment to eat and then,” she said with a somber grin, “then we will get to work, Afshin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's you're "go-to" writing music?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dara's Perspective - Nahri attempts to revive Dara with his relic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're heading towards the finish line

Dara laid on the bed, his amulet clutched tightly in his left hand. This was probably it. Their best chance at success before they would need to call off the whole plan. He couldn’t continue to watch her drain herself day in and day out for such a reckless goal. 

Nahri crossed to his side; he could see that her knees were trembling slightly. He couldn't blame her. It would be an understatement to call him anxious right now. Dara let the dark depths of her eyes envelop him and calm his nerves. The last thing his Banu Nahida needed was a nervous patient.

“Alright, I’m adding something else to this process tonight that could be useless, but certainly couldn’t hurt,” she explained. “Close your eyes for me.”

Without a word, Dara obeyed.

“Good, now, a wise man once said to me that magic was about intent.”

“A wise man indeed,” Dara drawled.

His eyes were still shut but he could see her grinning in the back of his mind.

“When I lay my hands on you, I get results by envisioning what I intend to do. I picture you human. I picture what I need to create. I repeat it over and over again. I’m going to ask you to do the same,” she explained. “I’m going to ask you to imagine a few things. First, imagine yourself as an alive, mortal, Daeva man.”

The image slowly came to mind. The memory. While he hadn’t been as supernaturally and astonishingly beautiful as a mortal, he had always been very handsome. Or at least that was what the people of his tribe had said - what the Nahids had casually remarked. Not that vanity was a major concern of Dara’s, but as a fact, his family had very angular features. His hair had been much the same. He’d had a sculpted face that had earned him many admirers and a body that accurately displayed his constant training. His eyes were black as coal, and he suddenly recalled a battle scar he had earned just over his left eyebrow. It was very small and had been the result of a rogue arrow brushing past him. He tried to envision that man who had just turned thirty when he was thrown down a well to his death.

“Out of curiosity, do you look like your shrine?” Nahri’s voice called.

Dara’s lip hitched up in a smile. “No, I was most unattractive.”

“What a shame,” she remarked thoughtfully. “Alright, now try to recall physical pain you felt as a mortal. Everything from a skinned knee to an arrow through your arm. Let me know when you’re done.”

Dara remembered the scrapes he had gained as a child playing with the Nahids. The stinging and burning that they’d quickly soothed and healed. He recalled the aching in his shoulder when he’d first tried to shoot on horseback and had fallen, dislocating his arm. He remembered the sharp twinge when the arrow had grazed his brow. His sore throat after drinking too much wine.

“I’m finished. Next.”

“Next you’ll need to get a little more creative,” she said, her voice hesitant. “Picture what you intend to do with your mortality. What you will use it for. Just say when you’re done.”

It did not take creativity. He’d thought of this every night since they’d spoken in the Grand Temple. Traveling with her hand in his across Daevastana. Fleeing the palace together. A small ceremony with just the two of them and a priest naming her his wife. Finding and building a home. Their dark eyes locking in the dead of night, bleary but full of desire and longing. Waking up next to her every morning. Nahri being able to practice without Ghassan's boot on her neck. Their eyes both glistening with tears when they learned she was with child. Nahri’s belly swollen with their baby, his hand splayed upon it feeling the eager movement of the life she carried. A child in his arms, small and precious, and every bit her mother. Teaching his child to walk, to shoot, to climb trees while Nahri had a purpose healing those who needed her help. Growing old and grey-haired at his wife’s side. Happily welcoming the years and the wrinkles that came with them because it meant they were still together. 

Something warm rolled down his cheek. A tear he hadn’t realized he had shed. He felt Nahri’s cool touch wipe it away and heard her sniff as well. Dara opened one eye and gave her a rakish grin.

“Banu Nahida, please be professional with your patient.”

She smiled back. “Afshin, close your eyes.”

He obeyed and felt her soft lips press his forehead.

“Are you ready?” Nahri breathed. "You're sure?"

He nodded against the pillow. Her hands spread on his torso and seconds later he felt the pain he’d experienced almost every night for the past five days.

It started in his legs. A throbbing and soft aching. 

Then his torso. A harsh churning.

Then his chest. Thundering pain. Pounding against his ribs nearly constantly. 

Then his throat. Constricting, cutting off his air supply.

Then his face. Pins and needles in his cheeks and eyes.

He grasped at the sheets struggling to keep a hold on the relic. Pushing against Nahri’s hands to arch his back and draw in a breath.

Then something new happened. His ears began to ring. His whole body felt cold. 

He made himself review the images. 

The scar over his brow. The dark eyes. A scraped knee with black blood.

His hand intertwined with Nahri's as they hiked over dunes and mountains. A Daeva priest declaring them husband and wife. Moving into a home. The softness of a bed as they made love and woke up to the sunrise. Eyes locked. Nahri healing those in need of the Nahid touch with him by her side. Her beautiful and glowing, cradling their child in her arms. Him teaching their child archery. Nahri happy and healing, putting her skills to use. His body aging, Nahri with crows feet by her dark eyes. Living a life together, free of politics and danger.

The cold grew colder. The ringing in his ears louder. His breathing shorter. He heard Nahri release a determined growl and the pain surged.

The images he was trying to picture were suddenly disrupted by an overwhelming concern for Nahri. Was she pushing herself too hard? What was this magic doing to her?

Not opening his eyes, forcing himself to shut them tighter Dara managed to gasp through gritted teeth: “Nah... Nahri...”

“I’m trying,” she grunted. “I can’t go much longer.”

He struggled to draw in breath, banging his fists harder against the mattress, one still clutching the amulet. 

“I’m sorry, just hang on,” Nahri hissed. “Creator, I _wish_ you’d just come alive already!”

All feeling left Dara’s body. His mind floated. There was no such thing as time. Only Nahri wishing for life to flow through him. 

Like a cart of boulders, he was smacked with a wave of pain.

The ringing in his ears quickly stopped. The aching disappeared. His throat stopped constricting and he drew in the largest breath he could.

There was a loud thud. 

Dara forced himself to open his eyes. Everything made sense again. The smoothness in his palm an amulet. The legs he could see were his. The bed he laid upon, in Nahri’s quarters. Nahri.

Dara sat upright hoping to see her but she was gone. He struggled to maintain even breathing as he looked about the room.

Nahri sat slumped against the dressers. Blood oozed from her nose. Her eyes stared straight ahead in a daze. Somehow this was worse than her being past out.

“Nahri,” he gasped, hurling himself off of the bed.

His knees ached and he wobbled briefly before stabilizing himself. Dara knelt before her and reached on top of the dresser for the glass of green liquid. He tipped it to her lips.

“Nahri, drink this. Please drink,” he pleaded.

Her lips barely parted in response and she took slow, labored sips.

“Please look at me. Say something,” he begged, a strangled cry rising in his throat.

Nahri’s head lolled in his direction. Her eyes flickered to him. His relief was short-lived as they then rolled upwards and she fell on her side in a heap on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May do a part two - idk


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Nahri’s perspective: Nahri wakes to find Dara is not quite the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is the last chapter! Thanks to littlethiefs and astarisms for your near CONSTANT encouragement

When Nahri woke, she was in her bed, still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Outside the window she could see that the night sky was slowly fading into a light purple as dawn neared. She tried to recall the events that had led to the heaviness in her limbs. That was making it so hard to keep her eyes open.

She caught a glimpse of her dresser where a few bottles had toppled over and there was a sudden aching in her lower back.

Nahri’s head tilted to the side and the memories came flooding back as she saw Dara’s sleeping form, his back to her. 

Had she succeeded? 

She forced herself to raise her hand, fingers stretched towards the bare skin of Dara’s shoulders. When she touched him, his skin was hotter than hers… but not scalding. She recoiled in alarm, all fatigue fading.

Dara groaned softly and rolled over to face her, his eyes still shut.

But he didn’t need to open his eyes for Nahri to see a difference.

The plains of his face once sharp were defined and angular. His skin had the shimmering glow of the Daevas she had been living among. Most notably there was a scar over his left brow. Dara looked strikingly like his shrine. A man carved from stone.

While everything about what she had accomplished was shocking, Nahri found herself most startled by how handsome Dara was without his slave magic. She hadn’t really contemplated what a mortal Dara would look like, but the answer was stunningly attractive.

He opened his eyes and Nahri suddenly remembered what happened just before she had woken up. He had pleaded for her to look at him and when she had his eyes were black.

And they still were. As dark as obsidian.

Nahri covered her mouth and stifled a large gasp. Dara smiled worriedly, his dark eyes bleary with exhaustion.

“Banu Nahida, your bedside manner is abhorrent,” he said sleepily. “You look much better... in that you are conscious.”

Nahri felt her eyes prickle with tears. She’d done it. 

“You don’t look so bad either,” Nahri smiled, her fingers gently tracing the harsh line of his jaw.

“I would not know.”

“You haven’t checked?”

Dara shook his head. “You fainted so I put you in bed and then I was also tired so-“

“Too tired to check and see if you were _alive_?”

He averted his eyes, a wry smile on his face. “Too frightened.”

Nahri cupped his cheek. “You, infuriating man. After all the trouble I went to, you haven’t checked for yourself?”

“If I remember correctly, you had assistance with that ‘trouble.’”

Nahri’s face fell as she suddenly remembered what had made all the difference last night. When she had said ‘I **_wish_ ** you’d just come alive already.’ It was no coincidence that after Nahri had spoken those words she felt a combination of her magic and his that knocked her backwards. She had commanded him.

Nahri’s jaw fell open, her brows knitting together. Dara’s playful expression became concerned.

“Dara, I-I didn’t mean to. I didn’t-“

“Do you think I am angry with you?” he said, inching closer to her in the bed. “Nahri, no. You made a passing remark in frustration that resulted in myself being granted a wish beyond my wildest dreams.”

Nahri placed a palm against his firm chest, feeling the gentle thrumming of a heart beneath the skin.

“Even so, Dara. I saw your memories. I know that it is unpleasant to lose control like that. I did-“

“Stop concerning yourself with me,” Dara said, his thumb coming up to brush her lower lip. He studied her face with his dark eyes. The dark eyes of a man, not a slave. “Be concerned for yourself. You realize I’ve killed every master I’ve had, correct?”

Nahri allowed herself a soft laugh. “You’ll make it quick?”

“Aye, Banu Nahida. The swiftest of deaths. You’ll have a spot just here,” he said pointing to a spot on his slave marks.

Nahri frowned at the drawings that climbed up his arm and over his shoulder. “I thought they would’ve faded. I’m sorry.”

“Do not trouble yourself. It matters not,” he said quietly. 

Nahri was once again taken aback by his seemingly bottomless black eyes, smoldering into her. If his eyes had an effect on her before, it was nothing compared to now. She realized quickly how long and lingering her gaze was.

“I’m sorry. Your eyes are really distracting.”

He smiled smugly. “I’m aware.”

“Oh? Did you look at your reflection and become enamored with yourself, Afshin?” she drawled.

“I… told you that I’m frightened. I’ve not left your side.”

The fourteen hundred year old warrior that could kill ten men in a matter of seconds with his bow was frightened of his own reflection? Nahri grinned at him and pushed herself to sit up. Dara propped himself up on his elbows.

“Don’t you want to see how accurate the shrine to you in the Grand Temple is?”

He held her stare for a moment, seemingly drinking her in. Nahri had to tear her gaze away, her cheeks warming. With a chuckle, he clambered out of the bed. Nahri wasn’t sure how to feel about Dara being aware of the effect he had on her. She imagined it would make for many sleepless nights.

“Is there… a mirror in your restroom?” Dara asked quietly.

Nahri felt a smile spread on her lips. She slid off of the mattress, planting herself in front of him.

“Yes, Afshin. If you feel so inclined, there is a mirror in my restroom over the water basin.”

His eyes fell down to her hand. His voice was soft: “I may feel so inclined if your hand was in mine.”

Wordlessly, she threaded her fingers through his and guided him to the restroom. He walked over to the basin, slowly releasing her hand, then gripped its sides so tightly Nahri thought he may break it.

Dara inhaled slowly through his nose and faced his reflection.

“Suleiman’s eye…” he muttered.

Nahri watched in satisfaction and elation. She’d done it. _They’d_ done it. 

Dara’s fingers touched just beneath his eyes. “My sister and I shared these eyes… I never thought I would see them again.” 

One of his hands fell, stretching out and seeking her own again. She grabbed it, weaving her knuckles between his. Holding his hand tightly, as if he were about to be yanked away. 

“What do we do now?” Nahri wondered aloud.

“We go back to bed.”

“Dara, the muezzin will sound in an hour or two and they’ll come collect me for work.”

Dara tugged her to his chest. She melted against him, her palms flattening against his torso. He looked down at her, dark eyes sparking with longing. Nahri felt an involuntary smile stretch on her face.

“An hour or two? That’s quite a bit of stolen time, little thief…”

  
  


The sun was slowly rising and with it, anticipation for the muezzin. Dara had spent the about fifteen minutes in the garden on his own. From what Nahri could see from her bed, he was simply enjoying the sun on his face. 

When he’d finally returned, Dara had wasted no time clambering back into bed and wrapping his arms around Nahri, pulling her close to him. He gently combed his fingers through her hair, his eyes seemingly taking in every aspect of her face.

“What would you have done if we didn’t succeed?” Nahri asked hesitantly.

Dara gave her a wry smile. “I will not lie. There were a handful of options I was considering… such as asking you to run away with me.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he muttered. A blush stole his cheeks. “Perhaps had even stood by and watched you marry the emir… hoping that you would still see me. Even if it was in secret.”

Nahri arched a brow. “I had no idea you were such a romantic, Afshin.”

“Yes, stealing away a Nahid in the dead of night and having a sordid affair. Such romance in royal crimes…”

“Dara, I don’t think you understand romance. The more forbidden something is, the more romantic.”

“Color me surprised that a millennia old bachelor is not well acquainted with the cadences of romance,” Dara smirked. “In my day treason was a death sentence, not an engagement.”

“You think this is treason?”

“Oh, most certainly, little thief. Maybe not to the people who are under the impression your marriage to the emir would be out of true love,” snorted Dara. “But certainly to the king who was plotting to wed you for political reasons.”

Nahri chewed her lower lip. “Great. We committed treason and at any moment the muezzin will sound and my aid will be here to take me to work-“

“Worry not,” he said with an errant wave of his hand. “I will lay low for the day. No one will know a thing.”

Nahri nodded. She felt a bud of anxiety blooming in her chest and let her fingers trace the lines of Dara’s chest. He instinctively put an arm around her waist holding her a little tighter, and Nahri had to admit that the effect was comforting.

“And then what?”

To her disappointment Dara shrugged. “I have all day to figure that out. You go to work and I’ll meet you here in the evening. Try and gather what you can, but pack light, aye?”

Nahri grinned. Pack light? As in they were leaving tonight?

“Are you saying that tomorrow morning I won’t wake up in this bed, Afshin?”

He laughed. “You’ll likely awake on a blanket in the grass or sand or among a city’s ruins.”

“Just like old times,” Nahri said fondly.

His free hand came up to stroke the curls on the back of her head.

“Yes, indeed, Banu Nahida.”

The call to dawn prayer rang suddenly and Nahri was out of bed in a flash, pulling on her abaya.

“Dara, you’ve got to leave.”

“What? Is your aid waiting just outside the door, anticipating the dawn prayer-“

_“My lady?”_

Nahri shot Dara a glare. He leapt from the bed as though he’d been electrified and quickly found his clothes on the floor.

“One moment! I’m not decent!” Nahri called. She pulled a chador from the top dresser drawer, winding it around her head. “How do you plan on lying low?”

Dara slipped on his jacket and joined her at her dresser.

“Do you have any more head scarves?” He asked, hastily rummaging in the drawer.

Nahri arched a brow. “Literally everything you’re touching is a head scarf.”

He scowled and selected a midnight blue scarf, wrapping it around his head and shoulders to hide his Afshin mark. 

“Pardon me if I’m not acquainted with women’s head garments,” he grumbled. 

Dara crossed to the window, swinging a leg over the side. He paused.

“This is much higher in the daylight… with bones that can break…” he muttered.

“Oh! Whenever I was late to pay the rent in Cairo I would hide under the bed whenever they showed up to collect!”

Now it was Dara’s turn to give her a skeptical look.

“You are suggesting I hide beneath your bed for the next twelve hours?”

_“My lady, are you well?”_

“Yes! Just… changing!” Nahri replied. “ _Or_ you can jump out the window.”

Dara exhaled. “Alright, I’m going… Creator, are you certain that you’ve always been so high up?”

“Decision time. Insult or injury, Afshin?”

He flashed her a grin that made her heart skip a beat. “I suppose that it is good you’re a healer.”

And with that he threw himself from the window. Nahri heard a loud thump and ran to the ledge. 

As dashing a warrior as ever, Dara was jogging across the grounds into the tree line. 

_“I have your breakfast, my lady.”_

“Alright,” Nahri smiled. “I’m ready.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may do a part 2 that’s just strictly fluff about their life together. What do you guys think?


End file.
